Draco
by Elissa The Elf
Summary: Draco Malfoy has to ruin his seventh year at Hogwarts with a trip to Beauxbatons with his archenemies. But maybe it won't be so bad... DM/HG -Fini-
1. Queer Dreams and Quidditch Matches

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the story line, as it is all J.K Rowling's, and I really don't want to put this at the top of every chapter, so shall we just say that this applies to the rest of the story? Done. Good Muggles.  
  
  
  
Draco snarled. That Mudblood Granger was sitting there in the stands, cheering her 'beloved' on. She shouldn't even be allowed at the school. Hell, she shouldn't even have been told that she was a witch, what with her coming in and showing up all the Purebloods. What in the world did she think she was? Surely not anything worth talking about, even.  
  
He shivered with a rush of adrenaline as he flitted down almost to the ground. There! To his left! He scurried on his broom to catch the Snitch before the weasel Potter did. Ha. Serves that little bastard right to knock him off his pedestal right onto his bloody arse. He thought he was all that, just because he had survived with little more than a repulsive scar on his forehead. That little scar. It made all the girls just fall all over him, and not over Draco. Why, I am absolutely stunning, he thought to himself. Girls should trample Potter just so they could get a glimpse at me.  
  
And, in all manners of thinking, they should. Draco was beautiful, with his pale, almost albino-like hair, and his clear grey eyes. But no. All the girls at Hogwarts (if one could call them girls) seemed to like boys with ratty, rumpled hair, and eyes the colour of limes. They made Draco's mouth pucker, as if in a bitter taste, whenever they caught and tugged at his thoughts. "I'll get him one of these days," he muttered in outright anger. But right now, he had to attend to the Golden Snitch.  
  
Potter was coming up on the right, best to knock him off his broomstick. But, it would be even better to snatch the Snitch fair and square, not even so much as treating Potter to the cobbing he deserved.  
  
"And Slytherin has caught the Snitch, winning the match 170 to 60!" the announcer called out in his magically amplified voice. "That means that Slytherin has a win record of 2-0, compared to Gryffindor's now 1-1 record!"  
  
Draco chuckled at the look of venom Potter threw at him as he flew past. "Serves you right, maggot," he spoke softly in a voice destined only for Potter to hear.  
  
  
  
Later, as Draco waited for his housemates to come in and congratulate him on his stunning win, he pondered. He pondered as to the moment that he knew his hatred of Potter exceeded any other feelings he might have. He wondered if that Nancy boy felt the same way about him. Suddenly, Draco knew he had to get out f the castle. Maybe go down to the Three Broomsticks, for a mug of Butterbeer. No, he decided, that would not help anything at all. So, he sat back down in his chair and waited for the adoring masses to arrive.  
  
They came in just as he was settling back down. "Oh, Draco dear, you were beyond belief! Potter's face was hilarious as he realized that his, ahem, archenemy had just beaten him to the Snitch! You were wonderful," Pansy said as she leaned down to plant a kiss on his cheek.  
  
"Not now, Pansy. I'm not in the mood." Draco sighed, as he pushed her away from him.  
  
"Not in the mood? But you always are after you win. And I am too." she whimpered, trying to get Draco to give into her advances.  
  
"Yeah, well, just leave me alone." He stood up." I'm going to my room. AND DON"T FOLLOW ME." He said in warning.  
  
Draco stalked up to his room and slammed the door. Pansy hadn't helped his temper any. He sulked his way over to his desk, and grudgingly started on his midterm homework that those teachers had assigned to him. Anything to get his mind off.whatever it was on. After awhile, he got up and slumped onto his bed. He lie there for a time, and finally fell asleep.  
  
His dreams were odd: a girl in gold and red robes, with auburn curls covering her face and making her unidentifiable. She was standing on a field, with a sense of extreme sadness exuding from her. She didn't move, or even seem aware that someone was watching her. Just as the wind finally blew her hair away from her visage, the door to the chamber slammed, and Draco sat bolt upright. "What in bloody hell do you think you are doing, barging into my room like that, Goyle?"  
  
"I'm s-s-sorry," he stammered, "But they told me to wake you up. It's suppertime, and you always get grumpy when you miss d-d-dinner"  
  
"Ah. Well then," Draco stated, his mood appeased by Goyle's obvious terror of his wrath, "Let's head down, shall we? Just give me a moment to.compose myself." He ducked into the lavatory, and straightened his tousled locks. Then he left his chamber, and led his gang down to dinner.  
  
  
  
At dinner, of course, the entire Slytherin house sat together at their table, discussing various topics. However, they mostly stayed on the topic of Draco's astounding win earlier that afternoon.  
  
"Ha! It was great! And, uh. It was great!" exclaimed Crabbe, speaking in his customary short and unintelligent sentences. "You whopped Potter's arse!"  
  
"Thank you for that wonderful oratory. Now shut your trap," Draco hissed, "While I tell of some other recent.exploits."  
  
"Oh, do tell, Draco. What have you done, you wondrous tormentor, you?" Pansy shrieked over the dull roar of the crowd. For once, she wasn't clinging to Draco side like a magnet. "I'm sure it was ever so much fun. Why didn't you invite me along?"  
  
"Because, you simpering idiot, you would have either cried out when I slew that Acromantula or else-"  
  
"Those are spiders, aren't they? Ew! Spiders! I hate spiders!" she cried out as she received an affirmative nod from Draco. "Thank God you didn't sham me into coming. You're so cruel!"  
  
Draco heaved a sigh, since he knew it would take quite some time before Pansy slowed down her ranting about how 'icky spiders are'. Instead of waiting for that far-off instant, he started discussing his winter break plans. He was turning seventeen the day the interlude started, and his father, Lucius, had promised him he would take him dragon sighting in Hungary. Draco was looking forward to this with the utmost urgency. He felt that his life was impossibly dull, and that he should get out and do something. He mentioned this to one of his fellow seventh years, named Kadlec. Kadlec agreed with Draco completely as to how their lives were being wasted with the years spent in Hogwarts, and how he was glad they only had that year left. This discussion occupied them until well after dinner, and almost to bedtime.  
  
"I just want some danger, a little change in our tediously planned lives," Kadlec stated for somewhere along the sixth time that night. "I hate having to do whatever my parents tell me to, answering to their every beck and call. It just irks me to think, that with all their house-elves, that they can't just get one of them to do what they want me to do."  
  
"I know how you feel, exactly." They had settled down into a long night of discussion, as teenagers tend to do about how their hormonally charged lives are horrid. However, elsewhere in Hogwarts, three people were having a very different conversation. 


	2. Seasickness is a Downfall

"I've already sent owls to each of the parents telling them that their children won't be home for the holidays." Professor McGonagall announced to the Professors Snape and Dumbledore.  
  
"Did you tell them exactly what their children would be doing, Minerva?" Professor Dumbledore questioned.  
  
"Of course not. I just told them that any Christmas presents could just be sent to Hogwarts, and we would insure that the children got them."  
  
"That is good-"  
  
"And what exactly are they doing? You know I haven't received any information of any sort about this supposed trip the sixth and seventh years are taking. Please, do tell." Snape said in a jeering tone. "What precisely are they doing?"  
  
Dumbledore started. "I thought Minerva informed you. So sorry. The sixth and seventh years are each going to visit another magical training school. They will be travelling in groups of eight, with two from each house. It doesn't necessarily have to be a sixth year and a seventh year from each house. What we are meeting for tonight is to plan out the groups, and where we will be sending them. Shall we get started?"  
  
And so they did.  
  
At the end, every student had been judged as to the best school for them to attend. Some were to go to France, and some to Bulgaria, or some even to Africa. Each student not speaking the native language (which was for all purposes, every single student) was to have his or her throat spelled to speak in the language of the person spoken to. They would also be spelled to be able to understand every known language, a sort of internal translating hearing aide.  
  
  
  
Draco stared in shock at the letter he had awoken to find sitting on his bedside table. It read simply,  
  
"Dear Mr. Malfoy,  
  
You are about to embark on a wonderful journey, to France to visit the Beauxbatons School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This is an exchange between our school and theirs that takes place every seven years. There will be a student taking your place at our school, as you will take theirs. Every sixth and seventh year Hogwarts student will attend, with a group of eight, a foreign school in the magical arts. You will need to pack the following:  
  
All your school supplies, including books, parchment, etc.  
  
Heavy robes and likewise cold weather clothing  
  
A good attitude.  
  
Your group members include: From Slytherin:  
  
Draco Malfoy Seventh year  
  
Pansy Parkinson Seventh year  
  
From Hufflepuff:  
  
Mathilda Greene Sixth year  
  
Thomas Borgin Sixth year  
  
From Ravenclaw: Sara Ling Seventh year  
  
Frank Lemington Sixth year  
  
From Gryffindor:  
  
Hermione Granger Seventh year  
  
Harry Potter Seventh year  
  
Remember to be polite to all you meet at the school, as you are representing the school, and we do not wish to have a mar on our so far shining name.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Albus Dumbledore"  
  
Granger AND Potter! How much worse could this get? And they would have to be travelling there during their winter break. Two weeks stuck in a vehicle with two of his most hated acquaintances, and he was probably expected to be civil to them, and not 'accidentally' curse them or anything. It would be horrid. Absolutely horrid. At least he had a few weeks to try and get Professor Snape to change his assignments. Plus, he was stuck with that awful brute of a girl, Pansy.  
  
He got up in disgust, unable to look at that terrible letter anymore, and went to take a shower. At least he was a prefect, and got the whole bathroom to himself at this early hour in the morning. He strode in, and turned on the water as hot as he could handle it. Then he began stripping down.  
  
"Not self conscious at all, are we now?" came a simpering voice from behind him.  
  
He whirled around, shouting, "Who the hell are you and how did you get in here?"  
  
"No one recognizes poor Moaning Myrtle, ever! Oh!" With a last interjection, she zoomed off into the toilet back to her own bathroom stall. Glancing around to make sure there weren't any other ghosts in the bathroom, Draco finished undressing. Just as he was about to step into the steaming water, he heard the painting open.  
  
"Shit! Who could that be? No one else ever comes up here at this time in the morning?" He muttered to himself as he reached for his towel. But he was too late, as just as his hand touched the soft, fluffiness of the towel, Hermione waltzed unawares in the room.  
  
"Oh!" she exclaimed, trying to keep her eyes to the ceiling and away from Draco's very apparent nakedness. "I didn't know you were in here, or else I wouldn't have come, I would have used the regular bathroom-," she babbled on as Draco wrapped himself in his towel, just a minute tardy.  
  
"It's okay, Granger. You can unglue your eyes from that fresco. What, didn't want to tell your little lover Potter that you saw another boy naked? Afraid of the penance he might make you do?" he sneered. "Now go away. I want to finish my bath. And when I'm done, you can have it, rings and all."  
  
"Hmph. Well, since you're here, and I'm here, I might as well mention it. Did you get your letter saying we'd be in the same group? Good. At least I don't have to break the news to you that you are working with Harry. Oh, and by the way, he is not my lover." With that, she turned on her heel and left Draco standing there.  
  
Why do I always have to be so mean? He thought to himself. It was an honest mistake. And he knew very well that they were not in any way romantically linked, as he himself had witnessed their break-up after a brief stint as significant others. They were just best friend material, nothing more. Still, Potter was more fiercely protective of her than a mother hen. He would never let anything Draco might do to that Mudblood get past him.  
  
  
  
  
  
The weeks passed, and soon it was time for the groups to start their packing. Draco had his minions pack his trunk for him, directing where to put what, and how to put it there. After the bags were packed to his satisfaction, they were loaded onto the boat that would take them to Beauxbatons. Draco had never actually travelled on a boat before, but was sure it would be breeze compared to riding on that rocking Hogwarts Express.  
  
The groups loaded onto their various vehicles, and farewells were exchanged. Draco made his way to his room on the boat to try and comprehend the layout, and to put up his stuff. As he found his room, he encountered Potter going the same way. "And just where do you think you're going, Potter?"  
  
"To my room," he snarled, and walked up ahead of Draco in an irritating show of superiority. To Draco's surprise, he walked into the room that Draco was sure he had been assigned to. Potter glanced up, startled that Draco should be looming over him.  
  
"You mean, this is. We are. We don't have to share a room, do we?" Potter said in shock.  
  
"Guess so, Potter. I suppose we shall have to be courteous to each other, won't we?" Draco said in exasperation as the thought of what could have been a pleasant vacation disappeared. He started unpacking, and putting his things in the dressers provided for them. He knew which bed was his by the black and green striped lacing throughout the bedspread. As soon as that was done, he headed out onto the deck. A lurch told him that the boat had just set off. A similar lurch to his stomach told him that maybe this trip wouldn't be as easy as he thought. He ran back into cabin, knocking Hermione out of the way as he rushed to the bathroom.  
  
"Wonder what's wrong with him," Potter said with an evil glint in his eyes. "Don't think he gets seasick, do you?"  
  
"Maybe we should check to see if he's alright," Hermione said in concern. "We could take him up to the ship nurse."  
  
"Why? That would be more kindness than he's ever shown us."  
  
With that, Potter pulled Hermione up the stairs to dinner, and left Draco wretched in the bathroom. 


	3. Golden Capes and Sharing Beds

(A/N: This is just a note to tell you that yes, Draco is a bit out of character, but hey, I just really can't imagine him to be such a horrid person. He's just a misunderstood little boy)  
  
Draco finally showed up on deck an hour and a half later, looking quite green about the gills, and staggering a bit against the roll of the ship.  
  
"Are you all right, Draco? I-I mean, we missed you at supper. Would you like to.accompany me to the kitchen to get food?" Pansy asked seductively.  
  
"No food. Where's the nurse?" he mumbled, trying not to move his head too much for fear of another round of nausea. He didn't take not of any of his surroundings, overcome by the smell of so much food. So much fragrant food. "Oh no. Not again," he said, trying not quite successfully to prevent another bout of seasickness.  
  
"I'm over here, dear. Or rather, let me come to you. You look quite sickly, dear," a kindly, round woman said as she ambled over to where Draco had sat down. "You had better come down to my cabin, and I'll get you all set up. I think, from my 'initial diagnosis', that you have a bad case of seasickness. Come on, let me help you."  
  
Draco was led down without resistance, eyes closed, following the sound of the nurse's voice, and her gently guiding hand on his shoulders. As they neared her room, Draco summoned up enough courage to open his eyes. His eyes widened; this looked like a library, with only one cabinet of medicines. Madame Tortes, as she introduced herself, steered him to a low couch as she got out her wand. She carefully positioned Draco, so as to get the spell just right. Pointing it at his feet, she let out a whopping, "Spritus Incantantus!"  
  
A long stream of blue light shot of the wand to his feet. A tingling sensation raced throughout his body, like spearmint mouthwash coursing through his veins. She told him to stand up, which he did reluctantly. To his surprise, his sickness was gone, vanished like a hummingbird. "What did you do?" he asked in shock.  
  
"Oh, just a little charm I picked up that makes one float a touch off the ground. It's great for motion sickness. It even works while you are dead to the world. Feels like you are sleeping on air! Which you are," Madame Tortes said as she hustled Draco out of the room to his chamber. "Now go get something to eat, like your friend suggested!"  
  
Instead of following Madame Tortes quite sound advice, Draco slowly made his way back to his room, still marvelling at the sense of airiness he felt. The room was empty as he pushed open the door and walked to his bed. He had finished taking off his robes along the way, so as to not have any impediments to his tired body.. He turned back the covers, and as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was asleep.  
  
  
  
He dreamed odd dreams again that night; this time, though, the girl was hunched over a low silvery form. As he watched, the form rose from the ground, and slowly stood to its feet. The girl showed extreme happiness at this, grasping the figure's neck, and kissing it repeatedly. The figure showed no signs of acknowledgement, and instead just gently pulled from her grasp. She watched in astonishment, her face still deep in the darkness, as the figure, now obviously male, started walking to the spot from where Dream-Draco was watching. He lifted his wand and-a foghorn blew? Draco's confusion pushed him to awareness as the foghorn blew again.  
  
"Morning already? At least I slept well." He glanced at the clock, and was flabbergasted to see that it was only six o'clock in the morning. He glanced to Potter's bed, and was not surprised to see that he was still asleep, and wearing flowery pyjamas. Ha. Guess Potter really was a Nancy boy. Oh. Wait. That was Granger, curled around him. He snarled, and then stopped himself. Why does that bother me so much? He wondered. Could it be that I just want a really likeable girl to like me? He glanced back over, thinking about how it would feel to have Hermione's arms around him. Then he shuddered in disgust. Imagining himself with a Mudblood. He had sunk to new lows, even in his own mind. No, he decided, it just bothered him because upon Potter's face was something akin to happiness. Draco begrudged Potter even the joy that a companion can bring.  
  
Draco strode lightly out to the upper deck to look at the passing landscape. It was a lush green, pale underneath its covering of frost, and a forest of pines stood looming atop a small mountain range. He trembled from a sudden chill, realizing that he could see his breath every time he exhaled. He started to shiver again, but a cloak was placed upon him. A red cloak, trimmed in gold. He turned to see a head of curls just about to disappear back into the cabin door. "Hermione?" he called questioningly. "Thank you," he murmured as he saw the figure pause. As he stopped speaking, the figure moved on. He said to himself, "Maybe it's not going to be such a bad thing to have Granger on this trip. Maybe, just maybe, we can be friends."  
  
  
  
  
  
Instead of going back into his room just to witness the gruesome sight of Potter and Hermione sleeping together, he wandered around. Ducking his head into what seemed to be a variety of dining halls, he finally found his way to the galley.  
  
"Do you happen to have a newspaper I could borrow? I have to read it every day," he announced to the occupants of the room. "Oh, and could I get some food? It appears you have.quite enough for everyone," he said, as he surveyed the overflowing counters.  
  
"Of course, Draco. Here's the paper," said a small, still tousle haired boy. "I'm afraid it's a bit torn up, since my owl, Mouse, isn't all that reliable. And the house-elves made a bit much for me and the others, so help yourself. There's everything you could ever want, since they can't seem to take 'I'm really not hungry anymore' for an answer."  
  
"I'm sorry. Didn't catch your name?"  
  
"Oh, sorry, my name is Frank, from Ravenclaw. What do you think we shall be doing after we arrive at Beauxbatons? I hope the teachers are nice, not like Snape," the boy said jokingly.  
  
"There is nothing wrong with Professor Snape. And if you listened to him once in awhile instead of running your trap, you might learn something to fill that empty head of yours," he glowered at the boy.  
  
"S-s-sorry," Frank stuttered, "I didn't know you felt that way about him!"  
  
"I'm just going to take this to my room and eat, if that's okay with you," Draco muttered in an unpleasant tone. So he stalked back to his room at that early hour of the day already in a bad mood. 


	4. Solid Terra Firma

(A/N: I just love making Harry evil. No one ever really sees the story from Draco's view, so I figure I have to tell it. He's really quite intelligent, too. You've read all those wonderful spells he throws at Potter. And, you never know, Draco could just have attachment problems, and not want to get close to anyone, for fear they shall be wrenched away from him, like his dear.oops, better not tell you that or might give the story away.)  
  
Later that day, as the scenery grew ever more spectacular, the boat drew closer t the castle of Beauxbatons. Every gathered onto the top deck, trying to catch a glimpse of the French school of magic. Alas, though, the castle would take another day's ride in those horseless carriages to reach. Still, it couldn't hurt to try and see, could it?  
  
Draco was sprawled in a chaise lounge, watching the countryside drift past. He wasn't really thinking about anything, except how the sun felt good on him. It had really been quite some time since he just lay around and sunbathed. He overheard two of the others talking, not Potter and his girlfriend but two of the measly sixth years.  
  
"So how do you think they will sort us so we can attend the classes? Do you think they'll just leave us in our own House groupings?" said that little boy Draco had snapped at earlier.  
  
"No way! That would promote us clinging to each other, and not reaching out to the others at the school," replied a small Asian girl. Her parents were obviously those Muggle psychiatrist things.. "Beside, if we wanted to hang out with our own groups, we could have just stayed at Hogwarts, and not spent all those Galleons to bring us out here."  
  
Frank pondered upon this. "Surely they wouldn't separate us all, and keep us from each other, would they?" he asked anxiously. "That wouldn't be very nice. Not nice at all. I hope they keep us with at least someone from Hogwarts-"  
  
"Stop whining. You'll find out soon enough," Draco barked. "We're about to land, anyways." And with that, he stood up and strolled down the gangplank that no one noticed had dropped, as they were so busy talking amongst themselves. Everyone watched his descent, to see what he could possible do on the ground, as there was no one waiting for them.  
  
The carriage was there in front of him, suddenly appearing from nowhere. Draco kept his calm, but was in fact terribly startled at a humongous horse- drawn horseless stagecoach appearing out of nowhere. Who wouldn't be? The cab was enormous, and covered in gilt like there was no tomorrow. Draco walked up to the carriage, preparing to get in. But before he could, the door swung open of its' own accord. He took this at face value, and decided that the coach was enchanted to act as if it were fully decked out with every servant one could possibly want. He stepped inside, and was wowed by the lushness of it all. All of the seats were covered in velvet, trimmed with gold braid, and none of it was the slightest bit worn. Of course, Draco was used to this at his own home, but wasn't expecting that a foreign school could afford all this.  
  
He didn't let on, though, so Potter obviously just assumed that Draco took this all for granted. "What, is this not good enough for you?" he growled. "Oh yes, I forgot. Rich Boy has all this and more at his mansion. I should've known." Without any further comment, Potter sauntered his way over to the best seat right by the window. "Here, 'Mione. Come over and sit by me. That way we can't have anyone spoil our trip," he said pointedly.  
  
Draco strolled over to an empty chair, purposely ignoring everything that boy said. He meant to keep the chair all to himself, but guess who showed up right at that minute. Pansy.  
  
"Oh, thanks so much for saving this seat for me, dear. I've hardly seen you all this trip so far, and I so want to catch up with you." She blinked as she thought was charming, but really made her look addlepated. "You don't mind that I sit here, do you?"  
  
"Why, actually, I really wanted to sit by mys-," he started to say, but was interrupted by Pansy.  
  
"That's great, dear," she said, not paying any attention to the daggers Draco was throwing with his eyes. "So, what have you done all that time? Surely you didn't stay in your cabin the whole while. That would just not be oodles of fun."  
  
"Actually, I went to bed, then woke up and read the newspaper. I can read, unlike some people I know. Can you read? Yes, I thought maybe you could. Well, in the newspaper, I read some interesting information, that really quite pertains to us as we are going to attend Beauxbatons for a while. I read that a monster has escaped into the French countryside. And do you know what kind of monster it was?" he asked Pansy on the spur of the moment.  
  
"No. What kind? Do you think this colour looks good on my nails? I don't really think so. Hrm. What colour do you think would look good?" she answered distractedly.  
  
He gave up on her limited intelligence. After replying blue to her query, he just sat and leaned against the armrest. He thought about what the boy had said earlier, about the sorting. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he really didn't want to be put with Pansy, as he wondered what he had ever seen in the girl. He couldn't think of it at the moment, and it would probably disgust him when he did. Maybe he would be put with one of the sixth years. That wouldn't be a problem, unless it was that Frank boy. What did he think he was, insulting Snape? Snape had always been kind to Draco, as sort of replacement father for the loving one he didn't have. Hermione wouldn't be so bad, if she toned down her irksome air of know-it-all-ness. She had a tendency to try every spell she encountered, sometimes with disastrous results. One time, he even saw her sprout whiskers, which were actually quite cute, in Draco's unspoken opinion. In fact, everything about her was- he wouldn't let himself finish the thought. If his father ever knew he had an inkling of a liking for a Mudblood, his father would never let him live it down. He might even go after Hermione, and hex her, or curse her family. Lucius had done it before.  
  
The scenery rolled past, but Draco wasn't watching it. He didn't dare look near the window for the dread of the fragmentary thought. Instead, he concentrated on what he was missing at home. He wished he were there, fighting dragons like in the days of lore. Then he could boast, calling himself a real knight. There was one on his coat of arms already, so it wouldn't be that much of a stretch. Some of his ancestors had obviously been slayers, therefore, he had the fighting blood in him. In a burst of spontaneity, he wondered if Potter had dragon-keeper blood in him. That could be why Draco hated him so much.  
  
His thought processes were interrupted by Madame Torte announcing, "We have alighted at Beauxbatons. Please put your feat upon the terra firma, and step out of the carriage."  
  
They had arrived. 


	5. Demiguise Down and Blue Haired Pixies

(A/N: Don't worry, I'll always write more soon. I like this story too much to give up on it. But don't freak if I don't post for a few days. It's right before term finals, and the professors are piling on the work like there is no tomorrow. But I promise (cross my heart) that I shall update at least once a week. Oh, and the teacher is a shout-out to the best French teacher in the world. And further down, I'll use instead of question marks to signal them speaking in translated French.)  
  
The castle towered above them, gleaming with the sheen of well-polished old stone. There were towers scattered throughout the skyline, and at least five were being scrubbed at any moment. The students of Hogwarts gathered in front of the carriage, or at least where the carriage was last. It had disappeared as silently as it materialized.  
  
The doors in front of them quietly opened, with the ease of oiled hinges. The students, gently prodded by Madame Torte, walked through this entrance still looking about in awe. One woman was standing there in front of them.  
  
"Est-ce que vous voulez voir le chateau? Bon. Il y a quarante-six chambres, et quatre-vingt dix-huit cheminies." the lady spoke, in a tone as pure as crystal on crystal. She spoke in French, of course, but to them it sounded as if it were pure English. That was the purpose of the very successful spelling of Professor McGonagall. To les etudiants, it seemed as if she were saying, "Would you like to see the castle? Good. There are forty-six rooms, and ninety-eight chimneys."  
  
"Eh, madame? Comment vous appellez-vous?" Madame Torte asked the woman's name.  
  
"Je m'appelle Madame Beaulieu. Ah. Vos chambres sont ici," she announced, pointing out the boys' and girls' temporary bedroom. They would spend the night there, to recuperate from their journey, and then, Mme Beaulieu told them, they would be sorted in the morning after breakfast. Most of the Beauxbatons students were still gone on holiday break, but there were enough to get them acquainted with the school.  
  
Draco, instead of going on a brief tour with everyone else, went to his bedroom. It wasn't a single bedroom, like he had back at Hogwarts, but one with six beds arranged around the heptagonal room. The beds, canopied with black, ebony posts, were the darkest things in the room. The chamber was swathed in creams and pale greens. It made for a striking effect, but the room wasn't homey at all. In fact, the only comforting thing in the whole room was the small window with a seat underneath. It was in an enclave, padded all over with dark red velvet.  
  
Draco padded softly over to this magical window. Sitting down and looking out, he could see snowflakes drifting down in a roundabout way. They glistened against the darkening sky, catching the last few rays of the sun. He was hit by a sudden wave of loneliness. No one he ever knew stuck around for long, turned away by Draco's misunderstood habits. That's why he needed someone more than ever. He hadn't met anyone special during the seven entire years he'd gone to Hogwarts. He thought Pansy had been unique for a while, but then she turned out just like all the other vain, selfish girls in Slytherin. Maybe that would change while he was here as an exchange student. He could meet the girls of his dreams, and sweep her off her feet with his wit and charm. He sighed. No one would ever fall for him. That was the thing of fairy tales, and of romantic young girls.  
  
The door slammed, startling Draco. He stood up rapidly, banging his head on the wall, and alerting the girl who entered to his presence.  
  
The girl was interesting in appearance, to say the least. Her hair, cropped to above her ears, was a pale yet iridescent shade of blue. That, however, was the only thing in colour on her entire body. White robes, and a grey scarf clothed her. Even her pale skin was achromatic.  
  
Hello, miss. Can I help you? He said, unaware of a small trickle of blood forming on his forehead.  
  
I live here; so the question is really can I help you? Oh! You're hurt. Come here, she beckoned. You must have banged your head when I scared you.   
  
You didn't scare me, he protested angrily, but came all the same. Do you go to this school?   
  
Yes, and this is my seventh year. My name is Genevieve, by the way. She added as an afterthought. And your name is.? She prompted.  
  
Draco. Draco Malfoy. Stating this made him feel almost ashamed of his heritage. What if this girl had heard of the terrible things his father had done, and hated him on the spot? But luck was with him this time; she had no knowledge of any of the Malfoys.  
  
So, are you one of the transfers that came over from Hogwarts? Genevieve asked as she cleaned his wound. What's it like there? Are there lots of cute boys?   
  
I wouldn't know. I don't pay attention to that sort of thing. He replied. So, do you know how we are going to be sorted tomorrow?   
  
I'm not quite sure, but I figure it shall be a sort of test, maybe, that quizzes you on your spelling skills. I'm in the Renard house. That's where the mediocre magickers stay. Then there's the Soleil house, which is where the brainy people go. The last house, the one for those who are not very talented in magic, is Longuebas. This room here is the visitor's ward, and you'll stay here tonight, until you're sorted. She explained quite thoroughly.  
  
So why were you in here?   
  
I was assigned as part of the welcoming group, so I decided to check in and spruce up a bit. She said this with a proud air. There were only three people recommended to help, and I was one of them.   
  
Who are the other two? Draco pondered aloud.  
  
They're boys, but I don't talk to them much, and I couldn't tell you their names. Oh, goody. It's dinnertime. We're having a special feast, so we better hurry up and get down there!   
  
She took him by the hand and they rushed down the stairs. Afterward, Draco couldn't have told you where they had gone, or anything along the way. They ran in and out of rooms too quickly to tell what colour they were, much less what they were used for. Soon they reached the dining hall, and Pansy beckoned to him from the front table. Genevieve led him up to the front, where they both sat down in front of the whole school. The meal hadn't started yet, so they weren't late enough to be reprimanded later. After a few minutes, meals Apparated in front of them, hot and steaming.  
  
As they started eating, Pansy whispered to Draco, "Where were you? I was starting to get worried you'd embarrass us by showing up late. And what is wrong with your head?"  
  
Draco looked up with dignity. "I banged my head and had to get it fixed. I wasn't late, so just let it be." And he resumed eating his food.  
  
After the meal was over, and the food had slowly disappeared from their plates, Madame Beaulieu stood up. As the head of Foreign Affaires at Beauxbatons, I would like to introduce the students of Hogwarts. They will be staying with us for the rest of the term so do be kind. They will be sorted in the morning, so make sure you attend the assembly. Also, as it is Christmas Day, I present to you, your presents. With a swish of her wand, presents appeared on the now cleared table.  
  
"Ooh!" Pansy exclaimed. "Presents! And here's mine from you, Draco. I hope its good!"  
  
And it was. Draco had gotten her a delicate bracelet made of twisted unicorn hairs and Demiguise down. It shimmered in the light, and in the dark appeared as merely a smudge on her arm.  
  
"It's beautiful," she gasped, "and looks how it glows! It's the best present ever!"  
  
Draco had just finished opening all his presents except one. He had gotten miscellaneous trinkets, and nothing exceptional, not even from his family. His father had merely sent ten Galleons by owl, and a note from his mother instructing him to spend it well. He glanced at the last packet. It was so small, and carefully bound with lacy green and silver ribbon. A small card fell out as he picked up the gift. He lifted the note and read the neatly engraved card.  
  
"Dear Draco, I'm sorry for anything that may have come between us in the past. Please, accept this gift and my apologies with it. Sincerely, H----"  
  
Damn. The note was smudged, and the name unreadable. Who could have sent this to him? He knew that the first letter was H. Who did he know whose name began with that letter? Harry? No, couldn't be him. Hermione? He couldn't dare to think that. Hagrid? No, because the gamekeeper had his pets, and Draco wasn't one of them. He would think of more names later.  
  
He opened the present, careful not to damage anything inside. At first, he couldn't see anything inside. But as he peered closer, he caught a glimpse of shine. Inwardly, he gasped as he realized what it was. A tiny Snitch, pure gold, was hanging on a silvery cord. The necklace didn't appear long enough o fit around his neck, but as he raised the band to put it on, the charmed metal loosened to fit comfortably. The Snitch settled in the hollow of his neck, where he could feel its tiny enchanted wings beating softly against his skin.  
  
As he left the dining hall, he didn't notice a curly-haired girl watching him. She had watched him all night, taking her eyes off of him only long enough to respond to her companions' questions.  
  
He didn't notice that around her neck shone a similar chain, and that on it hung a tiny broom. 


	6. Strangling Chokers and Ladders to Abyss

That night, after evening activities, Draco walked tiredly up to his room, finding it by trial and error. He entered the room, and without doing anything but taking off his boots and outer robes, went to bed. He expected to be out like a light, but sleep didn't come. He wondered what was keeping him awake, and then realized he needed to take off the choker He didn't want the delicate Snitch broken as he knew it would be by his sleepless tossing and turning. He got up, exasperated, and walked to the mirror. Casting a small lighting spell, he searched for the clasp in his reflection. He couldn't find it. He rubbed his eyes and tried again. Still no fastener. He moved his fingers slowly and completely around the smooth length of the chain, but only encountered the obstacle of the miniature Snitch.  
  
Draco panicked. Was the necklace slowly getting tighter, and would finally reach the point of strangulation? Scared by this thought, he tried frantically to pull the charm from his throat, but to no avail. It didn't matter what he did, he couldn't break the necklace apart. It was indestructible.  
  
Finally, having worn out his terror over the unbreakable chain, he once again let it settle into the hollow of his neck. He had to admit that the small choker had its appeal when around his throat. The metal was brighter and darker than his skin, even the silver.  
  
Satisfied that the necklace wasn't going to strangle him in his sleep, he went back to be. This time, though, sleep came instantaneously, and Draco was no longer aware of the world.  
  
There she was, pulsating happiness. In her outstretched hand was a tiny golden broom hanging on a silver band. Draco nodded. He had a necklace like that. Where did you get it? The girl wondered. From a friend. No, wait; it had been a gift from someone he didn't know. The girl pointed at herself. You gave it to me? The girl agreed vigorously, and was no longer faceless. Why? He asked. Because I like you.  
  
Draco woke on his own this time, feeling good from the pleasant dream. What was it about? Oh, yeah. That girl. He had finally seen her face, but in the confusion upon his waking, Draco had forgotten who she was. The face was a familiar one, he was sure. Maybe he would think of it later.  
  
Since it was still early, Draco got dressed and sat down in the enclave with a piece of parchment and a quill pen.  
  
"Dear Father," he began,  
  
"I am here at Beauxbatons, and it is right before breakfast. Thank you for the Galleons, and I shall spend them wisely.  
  
"I was wanting to ask, though, if we had any respectable relatives here that I could visit in my spare time. You always told me that I should know everything I could about our heritage, and maybe a view from across the Channel would be a good thing. Your son, Draco"  
  
He tied the note around his owl, Flighter's, leg, and sent him off. Since others in the room were beginning to stir, he reached for a book. "How to Interpret Dreams." That one sounded silly, not to mention useless. Here, much better. "Top Ten Quidditch Plays and How to Achieve Them." That should be good.  
  
Four plays and thirty minutes later, the exchange students went downstairs for breakfast. It seemed as though every student that had left had returned overnight, and the dining hall was overflowing. Everyone was eating, and the hall was filled with the sounds of French voices and laughter.  
  
The food was delicious, a Lucullen delight. Omelettes, croissants, and café du lait garnished the table. The hot coffee warmed Draco up, warmth that filled him to the brim. He wasn't hungry, but ate so he wouldn't be ravenous later. He didn't talk to anyone, but they assumed that it was because it was early, and he was not a morning bird. This was fine by him, as he didn't particularly want conversation at that moment. He wanted to think about the dream. Maybe he should have read that book about interpreting them. Before he could think about going back and getting that book, his thoughts were interrupted.  
  
This morning, classes will be postponed as we are going to sort our new arrivals. You all went through the sorting, and know it wasn't as easy as it looked. So don't mock our tryouts, and play fairly. The headmistress, Madame Maxime announced. Come along now, children, and you shall see what the trial is.   
  
The scholars followed the headmistress. She led them outside and to a glass atrium filled with plants and lounge chairs. Please line up according to height, and stand perfectly still. They did, and Draco was at the front of the line, followed by Potter.  
  
"Don't break line and run, Potter. We wouldn't want the competition to think we're scaredy-cats, would we?" Draco mocked under his breath.  
  
"Don't be such a smartass, Malfoy. Why would I run? It's only cowards like you and your father that can't stay loyal to their side," he snarled back. "Courage runs in my blood. Haven't you heard? I'm in Gryffindor, so back off."  
  
Just as he finished his sentence, a spell was cast. They were lifted off of their feet, and saw each other no more. Draco found himself deposited in a blank chamber. The only thing in the room besides him was a small sheet of paper. He slowly made his way towards it, testing each step for booby traps before he put his food solidly down. When he finally reached the document, he found nothing on it but three words in bottle green ink.  
  
"How to escape?"  
  
I don't know, he told himself but looked for a route out anyways. He turned around, expecting to see nothing, but witnessed a broomstick appearing before his eyes. It was an old one, beat up and over used. He walked towards it, confident that no booby trap would take him away. He straddled it, and tried to take off. No luck. He tried harder. Why wasn't the broom working? Draco threw it down in disgust. He stared at it lying on the dirt floor. Did he see something underneath the dirt? Yes, a sliver of wood was showing through. He hurriedly picked it up, and started sweeping, something he hadn't ever done before. It was hard for him to hold the broom so as to be able to sweep. But he managed it, and uncovered the door. He pulled it up by the handle, and looked down. All he could see was a ladder leading down into nothingness. He dropped a button he pulled from his robe down the well. No sound followed its plummet to the bottom. Not wanting to, but seeing no other escape, he started down the ladder. 


	7. Keys of Jewels and Pewter

(A/N: My sister has informed me that y'all non-francophone people in the might not know how to pronounce Genevieve's name. It's John-V-eve (like egg). So there you go. And the Demiguise down is what they make Invisibility Cloaks out of. All the animals are thanks to my handy copy of "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them," to give some credit to them. I just wish they would make more textbooks, or make them bigger. A 50-page book is not a text. It just isn't right.)  
  
After what seemed like a descent of the ages, Draco finally reached the bottom. The floor was slimy, and textured in a bumpy, ridged pattern. Just touching the flooring through his shoes made him feel unclean. The repulsiveness was only increased as he reached out for a wall to steady himself. Strings of ooze came away clinging to his fingers. He pulled his hand away, and reached for his wand. "Lumos," he said and a light came out of his wand. He appeared to be in a long tunnel with no end in sight, but at least he knew that there were no traps in the passageway.  
  
He paced forward, trying to get out of his trap as soon as possible. The hallway held no traps, but on the walls were pictures of kings and queens, topped with golden crowns. They talked to him as he passed, some complimenting him on his job so far, others warning of the trials ahead. He stopped at a double portrait. "Hello, dear. I'm Sophie, and this is my husband, Ferdinand."  
  
"Who are all these portraits of? And why are they here?" Draco asked Lady Sophie.  
  
"We are your ancestors. We are also, obviously, witches and wizards." She told him, pleased by his inquisitive nature.  
  
"But I thought that you were the ones that were going to be the King and Queen of Austria-Hungary. You were both assassinated, though! Oh, I bet you went into hiding after that, though. Are you my great-great-grandparents?" he added in a rush.  
  
"Yes, we are, dear. Now, run along. You don't want to miss the next trial. It's the last one, though." She said, with a little wave of her hand to shoo him to the end of the tunnel.  
  
  
  
Unbeknownst to Draco, the professors of Beauxbatons were watching his every move, judging his actions and his reactions. So far, he had shown no outstanding magical skill or perceptive abilities, other than concluding how he was related to the portraits, and his knowledge about Muggle History. So they continued watching. And waiting.  
  
  
  
Draco walked to the end of the tunnel and stopped before a low wooden and bench. A game of wizard's chess was atop it, unplayed and only the white members set up. As he sat down at the table, a voice came into his head, soft and fluttery.  
  
"Two tries you have to find the key, So cast a spell and then you'll see If your spell has gone awry. If it has, you've one more try To guess the key to unlock The door, and then you knock."  
  
He guessed that he would have to use transfiguration to change one of the chess pieces into a key. He glanced at the door, and the crafting that went into it. It was encrusted with jewels, gleaming from every walnut board. The keyhole was silvery, with a complicated tracing of gold throughout. Draco glanced at the chessboard. Which piece would be most likely to fit into that keyhole?  
  
The king, standing proud and tall, was nonetheless plain. The rooks were simple castles, unadorned. Knights, though honourable, were just noblemen on horseback, not a worthy choice to put in the door. Bishops shunned all things material, and lived meagrely. Ah, the queen. She would be the one, wearing her golden crown and draped in the royal jewels. Her key would be perfect, matching the door with precision.  
  
Draco pulled out his wand, and transfigured the piece. The key was massive, just as jewelled as the door. He walked over to the door and put the key into the keyhole. He turned it, and the door didn't open. He turned it the other way. Still no entrance.  
  
He turned around and looked at the table again. If not the queen, then what? He ran through the list of pieces in his mind again. The king, the queen, the bishop, knight, rook. The pawn. That was the right one; the plainest piece for the fanciest door, he reasoned.  
  
Quickly he changed the pawn. The key it turned into was as heavy as lead with a well worn handle. He walked to the entrance to his next task, put the key in, and swivelled it. The door swung open of its own accord, creaking slightly.  
  
Draco entered the room, shadowy and dark. These walls appeared clean, but covered with what looks like cloth. In the middle of the room was a huge shadow, lying down and breathing slowly. Wings slowly unfurled from its back, and ripples ran underneath the tawny hide. Long, dark hair, styled Egyptian, fell to its shoulders. It was a Sphinx.  
  
"Hello, Boy. Have you come to try my riddles?" She purred, looking pleased to have found a new victim. "I hope you are worthy of them. Not everyone is, you know, and let's not say what happened to those people."  
  
"I suppose I shall have to try the puzzles. I don't really have a choice, do I? Could you give it to me? And slowly, if you will." He said leisurely, as he knew he would have to think hard about the conundrum and wanted to be as calm as possible for the guesswork.  
  
"Here is the first one: A moon coloured box, To be opened from within. I hold the golden key to life. What am I?"  
  
Draco thought. What was moon coloured? And what had gold inside? "Repeat that, please?" he asked. "I might have it, but I want to make sure."  
  
"Gladly," she complied and reiterated the points.  
  
"Is it an egg?" he asked with hope in his voice.  
  
"Yes! Now here's the second one. If you get it right, I shall have to let you pass beyond me. This next one was named after me, it was so good. Here it is: I have four legs in the morning, And two legs in the day. At night I finish up with three legs. What am I?"  
  
"Four legs, two, and then three. Is it an analogy?" he asked, and the Sphinx nodded. "I know," he cried. "If it's an analogy, it's a man, crawling on all fours, walking upright, then aided by a cane in the later years of life!"  
  
The Sphinx stood aside, and let him pass into the hall beyond. 


	8. Unpacking into Wardrobes of Confusion

(A/N: My sis is a big H.P fan, so she wants me to do this same story, except from his point of view. Which I shall do eventually, since I know how much you all hate cliffhangers. oh well. Get over it. And a note to the Princess Ruby, I do speak French. I'm in French II, and I know how you feel about people slaughtering it. Over half of my class does on a regular basis. Also, to my friends, I'm sorry about using your names. I don't know a whole bunch of French names just off the top of my head. And, does anyone have a clue as to how to format the story so it shows up like I type it? All the letters, etc, aren't like I wanted them. IM me about it if you know. So now, on with the story.)  
  
A crowd awaited him as he passed through the door. Professors were with students, conversing lowly among themselves. Draco looked around in bewilderment, wondering if he was late to somewhere from the trials, or if he was supposed to find someone.  
  
"Pardonez-moi. T'appelles-tu Draco?" a small man, hardly higher than Draco's shoulders, asked him.  
  
"Eh, oui. Et vous, comment vous appellez vous?" Draco replied to the man's query, and questioned the man as to his name in response.  
  
I'm Thibaut. Here at Beauxbatons, I'm a teacher of Potions and Arithmancy, and I am here to congratulate you on your entrance to Soleil. Here, we will expect you to do your best, since we know what you are capable of. And-  
  
How did you decide to put me here? Draco interrogated Thibaut.  
  
Well, we weren't sure for a while, but when you figured out so quickly the piece to transfigure, and the answer to the Sphinx, we knew you were a quick thinker, and worthy of this honour. That's when we decided, just as you walked through the door. Oh, look. Here are some of your new classmates! This is Marguerite, and Jean-Luc. Thibaut introduced Draco to two very sullen students. They had an angry supermodel look about them, like the photographer had instructed them to be mad, and saluted Draco without much enthusiasm.  
  
Bonjour, Draco. We are in our fifth year, because our upperclassmen are gone too. said the girl, Marguerite. Follow us, and we'll show you to your room. Your bags are there already. She turned and walked away, going speedily down the hall as if she wanted nothing to do with this foreigner.  
  
As they walked out of the hall with Draco following, he could hear some of the teachers talking to their appointed students. He sniggered as he realized just whom one instructor was speaking consolingly with. The great Harry Potter.  
  
Now, if you follow Michele here, she'll show you your room. The Renard hallway is just down that way. the effeminate male professor told Potter. He had a look of shock on his rotten face, as if he was astounded that he was the best for once.  
  
Draco kept walking, trying to keep the girl and boy in his sight. Suddenly, there they were, halted, amazed, before a great set of double doors. Jean- Luc placed his hand upon a silver coat-of-arms that was where the door handles should have been. Only Soleil students can open this, Jean-Luc enlightened Draco in response to his perplexed look. It's like one of those Muggle fingerprint identifiers. Like that helped relieve Draco's confusion.  
  
The portal swung inward, revealing a room of outstanding scope. This wasn't called the Sun house without reason, he surmised. All the beds were yellow pine, and covered in gold-weave coverlets. Louis Quatorze chairs were situated everywhere, rich brocade adorning it all. And this was just the parlour!  
  
The walls did not have paintings hanging on them, but rather they were painted directly on the surfaces. This made for an interesting effect as the figures moved about, dancing in two dimensions. Each painting took up one panel of the wall, framed by moulding hanging around them. The pictures, though all different, focused on the theme of people dancing. They ranged from Degas' ballerinas to classical artwork of traditional dances from around the world. Every one was vibrant, pulsating with colour and motion, not all of it from the character moving.  
  
Spying another door up a short set of stairs, Draco walked towards them. Eh, you don't want to go into there. Those are the girls' chambers. Ours are over here, up this flight. Jean-Luc called out. Here. I'll show you and you can put up all of your stuff in your wardrobe. Draco turned and walked back down the stairs, still taking in all the newness of the site.  
  
The dormitory held the boys of all ages, not just dividing them by years like at Hogwarts. The younger boys, obviously waiting for the recently sorted, crowded around Draco like a rare scientific specimen.  
  
I'm Pierre! I'm Gabriel! And other names they called out. Draco was overwhelmed by the greeting they gave him. He hadn't expected anything like this when he left. He though everyone would just leave him alone, like they always did everywhere else he went.  
  
Salut... Are you all in this house? He asked, certain that some of these people had to be from another dorm. Shocked when they nodded empathetically, he continued, getting straight to the point. I'm Draco. Which bed is mine?   
  
You get to choose from the ones that the others left when they went away, piped up a small, brown-headed boy. They all had those beds down at the far end, sticking together, is what they always said. We do the same thing though, taking the beds of those who left the year before. That's the way it goes.   
  
Draco pointed to a bed situated underneath a stained glass window, bathed in Technicolor light. Is there anyone in that bed? He queried of the sprout that had just talked to him. At his headshake, Draco said he'd take it. His bags and trunks of school stuff appeared at the foot of the bed, and upon his desk.  
  
Draco walked over, followed by the eyes of every student, and started putting his things up. At the creak of the door, everyone looked over. Another new student, this one apparently American to judge by his cool look and sun bleached hair, came into the room. Hi, there. My name's Thomas, and I am from the American School for the Training of Magical Persons. Who might my fellow transfer be? He asked, in a laughing, melodic voice. The crowd of students parted so that Thomas might see Draco, who stood up at the word American.  
  
Draco uncharacteristically stuck out his hand in a gesture for shaking. "I'm Draco," he said in English. "I'm from Hogwarts, in England. Would you like to take the bed next to me? It's free, but might not be if you wait much longer to decide. Did you just get here?"  
  
"Yeah, and sorted. They didn't want to call another assembly, because they would have to for the rest of the people, too. The group from Mozambique just got here, and they're doing the trials now." Said Thomas. "Hey, who are the girls here? Are they cute?"  
  
Wow, did that sound like a repeat of Genevieve. "I don't know who else besides a girl from my school, Hermione. She's a smarty, but not really sociable, if you ask me." That wasn't true. She was, just not with Draco, or his friends. "So, do you want this bed or not?"  
  
"Sure. Where's the closet? I want to hang up my robes so they don't get wrinkly." Thomas said, unwittingly making a fool of himself.  
  
Choking back snickers at Thomas' ignorance, Draco told him, "We use wardrobes. That's it by the bed. The house elves will iron anything for you, if you leave it out. So don't worry about stuff wrinkling."  
  
With an abashed look, Thomas turned to the wardrobe and began to unpack. His robes, cut in the latest American fashion, were stunning to the untrained eyes of the younger students. Even his boxers were fancy. Draco just continued his unpacking, sharing an occasional comment with Thomas, and vice versa.  
  
Finally, all was done and the newcomers settled. No other newbie had arrived, and it was time for a group meeting to discuss rules, and such.  
  
Draco was a part of the group, and had a new acquaintance, whom Draco thought he might become good friends with.  
  
Beauxbatons didn't seem that bad. 


	9. Focus of Magic

The exit was jammed as every student tried to get out of the bedroom and into the foyer. A house meeting had been called, to let everyone get to know their new recruits and to make them feel at home.  
  
Everyone in! There are plenty of chairs, so don't just stand around! Thibaut called out, trying to make his voice heard over the cacophony of noisy children. Once all had settled down, he continued. Let's have all the exchange students come over here to the front so you can introduce yourselves.   
  
Draco stood up, nervous, and made his way to the front of the room carefully, stepping over legs outstretched by gangly boys. He merged into a larger group of students who were making their way to the front also, most of them girls, but some unknown boys.  
  
Now, stand in a line, and I want each of you to tell us your name, age, and what school you are from. Is that good? Thibaut asked. They nodded in response and aligned themselves. After that was done, the introductions began.  
  
A small girl, with red hair was first. I'm Anastasia from the Moscow Magical Centre of Learning, and I'm sixteen just this last week.   
  
I'm Joel, from Mozambique, a lanky, dark-skinned fellow said. I'm sixteen now, but I'll be seventeen in a month. Already the girls were following his every move, undressing him with their eyes. He'd obviously be very popular with the ladies.  
  
On and on it went, down the line. It was Draco's turn now, and there was still a third of the line waiting for introduction. I'm Draco, from the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I'm seventeen now, he said. A small gasp was heard from down the line, from the ones not yet introduced. He turned his head, trying to catch sight of the person who had let it. Draco scanned the line, and saw one very familiar face.  
  
Granger.  
  
Sure, she was one of the most talented people in the school, but why did she have to come to this house? Maybe she should have just followed Potter's lead, and gone to Renard. This would put a damper on the whole trip. He thought he would get away from her after the boat, but no. Here she was, in the same house!  
  
On and on, the induction went. When it got to Hermione, Draco let out no sign of acknowledgement, just stood there rigidly. She would not get the best out of him, and his carefully trained expression showed no one.  
  
Afterwards, Thomas came up to Draco. "I thought you said you knew that Hermione chick. What was the deal?" he asked.  
  
"Yes, I know her, but I do not want to be in the same house as her. She's horrid. I hate and detest and loathe her."  
  
"That's pretty harsh," Thomas said. "What did she do to you? Surely you're blowing it out of proportions."  
  
"I am not. And I can't tell you what she did, because.I don't really know myself. She just gets on my nerves." Draco told him, thinking about this for really the first time. Was it just because she was a Mudblood that he despised her? Yes, he told himself firmly. That was a good enough reason. Or, at least, that was what his father had always said.  
  
"Anyways, who all did you say you knew here besides Hermione?" Thomas asked.  
  
"Well, there are some other students from Hogwarts, that I don't really know, and then there is this perfectly horrid girl named Pansy, but you don't want to associate with that wench. She'll suck you dry as bone, and just leave a shell of a person where you once were." Draco told him in all seriousness. "Trust me, you don't want to mess with her."  
  
Thomas nodded as if slightly scared by this outburst, then turned and got his robes to put on. It was almost dinnertime, and for their first meal as a group. After everyone was dressed, they headed down the stairs to supper.  
  
About half of the school was there, waiting impatiently for their food. As soon as the rest of the school was there, the food appeared abundantly on the circular tables. Simple porcelain dishes housed the victuals, and held them well. The cuisine was simple, not as lavish as that of Hogwarts, but was much more sustaining. The bread alone was enough to keep a gaggle of teenage boys fed for a week. That was a lot of food, and of it appetizing to the palate. The tables were open to anyone who wanted to sit, but most often houses sat together within themselves. This was true of every house and counter. Conversations arose above the clatter of silverware, about which of the transfer students various people liked or didn't. Most of the newcomers were liked, with just a few rare exceptions.  
  
Draco joined into the conversation with the other transfers like Joel and got to know his roommates better. It couldn't hurt, seeing as he would have to sleep in the same room as these people, wouldn't he. Best to be on the safe side.  
  
As it turned out, in other countries, though the curricula was the same, the focus was on different studies of magic. In Mozambique, Joel told them, most of their studies had to do with tribal magic.  
  
It's quite an interesting subject, really. I know how to find out if Muggles have curses on them, from wizards gone astray. Muggle relations are quite good, since most people believe in magic, and we don't have to conceal ourselves as much. We also do a lot of work with charms, and protective things like that. I can make a stone that will protect the wearer from drowning, he announced proudly.  
  
In Russia, Anastasia said, Our magic is mostly nature harmony, and trying to undo damages unwitting Muggles have done. The site of that radioactive explosion was just a cover-up to keep Muggles from the dragon hatchery site. We can't have them just running around finding all of these great big eggs around. Remember when there was that big hullabaloo in the Muggle papers about the dinosaur eggs? Well, those were really dragon eggs that were improperly disposed of. So we study how to fix these problems. She informed them, and Draco got an enlightening insight. Lucius always read the Muggle tabloids to see if there were any information leaks to their unprepared ears. Sometimes these reporters got scarily close to the truth, and had to be talked to. That was his father's job, and every time there was no more mention of any such thing. Mr. Malfoy could be intimidating without effort.  
  
The conversation continued on to other subjects, and everyone had a jolly time that night. Dessert was un gâteau au chocolat sliced thinly and draped in a caramel sauce. All students went back to their rooms fully stuffed, and slowly got ready for bed. Draco looked at his watch in shock as they neared the chamber. 10:00 already! How long had they sat there after eating? It had obviously been quite some time. He shook his head, overcome by a sense of déjà vu. This was his first time here, it couldn't have happened before.  
  
He went to get his bath things and moved for the lavatory. It was unrestrained in its Yuletide cheer, decorated happily still with boughs of holly and sprigs of ivy. Draco headed to a shower stall and bathed away his tiredness. He put on his pyjamas, consisting of black and green sleep pants and nothing else, and went back to his bed. The covers were pulled down for him, and a foot warmer was placed in the bed. Touches of home.  
  
He lay down between the soft sheets, and thought of his own home. This wasn't the way it was there; there he would have to go sleep alone, in a cold and unwelcoming house. Draco thought briefly of the classes he would be expected to attend the next day. What would the heart of the lessons be? Could he do them well enough to satisfy their expectations? Rolling over, he forgot these worries, and concentrated only on falling asleep in this warm and comforting bed. 


	10. Falling From the Black

(A/N: Those of you who know French will get a hoot from the Creature Teacher's name. And thanks to all my reviewers! I love you guys. I'm going to work on this all Christmas break, but next week are finals, so forgive me if I don't post so often.)  
  
His dreams that night were normal, if one considered that he had had similar dreams for the past few days. The girl, who was known to him, was walking through the school hallways apparently looking for something or someone. She peered into a doorframe, and waved inside. A dark-clad boy walked out of the room, and put his arm around her shoulder. She was happy with this. And there the dream ended.  
  
The morning dawned bright and early for the students of Soleil. As it was the first day back, every transfer wanted to make the best possible impression they could on their new teachers. Bed were thrown in disarray by waking teenagers, clothes were strewn about the room looking for the nicest robes they owned. Showers were taken, hair was slicked, and there was a general disorganized rush.  
  
Draco wasn't a part of it. All he did was take out a simple black robe, since all of them were exactly identical, and comb his hair. While everyone else was looking for shoes Draco was gathering his books to take with him down to breakfast. Calmly putting his things in his bag, he told himself not to worry about classes. He could handle anything the professors threw at him, and more. That was the way his father had prepared him, ready for any contingency. He took all the volumes in his arms and carefully checked to see if he had every one that was needed. He did. So then he sat down on his made-up bed and waited for the others to be ready.  
  
When they were finally ready, and breakfast was done, a tingling bell rang to signify the start of classes. Even though he had memorized his schedule, Draco glanced down at it again. First up was Arithmancy, taught by the well known and universally like M Thibaut. At least it would be a recognizable face. There were no classes shared with the other houses, so that in each the teachers could help their students' particular abilities, or disabilities as it may happen, in magic.  
  
After finding his way to the Arithmancy room, he sat down at his desk and readied his things. He set up his inkwell, and took out several clean sheets of parchment. Draco was one of the first in the room, he was proud to say. Thomas came in, and slid into the chair next to Draco. "This is going to be lots of fun," he whispered as he got himself situated. "Arithmancy was my favourite subject back home."  
  
"Really? I've never had it before. What do we do?" Draco murmured back. Just then, M Thibaut walked in the door and started class.  
  
Hello there, students. I hope you all slept soundly, He commented upon seeing their (mostly) weary faces. Now, lets get started. Turn to page one of your textbooks- eh, yes, Miss Granger?   
  
Hermione looked down at the ground, abashed. It appears that I have left my Arithmancy book in my room. Is there one I could borrow for the day?   
  
He handed her a book with a stern look in his eyes. Just don't let it happen again, okay?   
  
Draco laughed to himself. The first day, and Little Miss Perfect already had a teacher who didn't absolutely love her. This would be a splendid day of classes.  
  
After getting a brief introduction to Arithmancy, which involved a lengthy detailing of how it was used in real life, they all got to work on their first homework assignment. It consisted of making a flow chart of how a spell worked. Thomas, whose analytical mind was good at this sort of thing, was done in minutes, and had to help Draco with his.  
  
"You know, I really don't think that this has any real purpose in life," he grumbled.  
  
"Of course it does," Thomas said enthusiastically. "If you didn't know how a spell worked, then you couldn't make up your own!"  
  
He had a point. Draco told him, "Well, if I ever want a spell, I'll just look it up and be done with it. Though this really isn't all that hard, I just don't like doing it."  
  
Soon enough, though, they were done with the dullness, and off to the next class, which happened to be Care of Magical Creatures. Though he had never shown it to that awful Hagrid brute, he found magical creatures fascinating, and could hardly get enough. He had first had his interest piqued when he was but five years old, and his nanny had taken him to a magical zoo, full of frolicking satyrs in their forests, and wallowing re'em. Everything was wonderfully interesting, and the nanny had to read every single informative plate.  
  
So now he stood at attention, waiting for the teacher to arrive. When she did, she was nothing like what Draco had expected. Short, stout, and rosy as an apple, she assessed the group and took stock of the situation. Here at Beauxbatons, we treat our animals right! We shall not hurt them in any way, and you shall not need your wands in this class! She boomed. I am Madame de Confiture, and all of you shall stand up straight! She was as an army general inspecting his troops. Sorry to all of those who've heard this before, She continued more gently. But everyone has to know these things.   
  
They all stood still as she brought out the first creature for them to study. A magnificent horse, wings sprouting from its sides, stood before them. She was black, a Thestral as Draco recalled. An unlucky animal for any wizard.  
  
As if she could read his thoughts, Madame de Confiture called out, I know what you are thinking, and you are wrong. This Thestral is not unlucky, but had that myth propagated to keep poachers from catching them. The Thestral is the rarest of the winged horses, and needs all the protection it can get. This one is named Yoyotte, and she is a kind creature. In twos, I want you to come up here, and you shall get a ride. She will not harm you, as I have instructed her not to, but do nothing to alarm her. Also, make sure that you do not damage her wings. She instructed them.  
  
Madame de Confiture called them up randomly, paying no mind to any protests of the students. Every pair was a boy and a girl. First up to ride were Joel and Marguerite, soaring over the treetops in a rush of wind. All the girls gasped at her fortune to be paired with this desirable boy. After a two or three minute ride, Yoyotte set them gently down on the ground. Another pair went, with the girl gasping from the joy of the ride.  
  
You there! Madame de Confiture called out, pointing at Thomas. And you! Draco couldn't see whom she pointed at this second time. He merely grinned at Thomas, and gave him the thumbs-up signal that he had learned last night at supper. Thomas grinned back.  
  
Thomas climbed carefully onto Yoyotte's back, not touching her delicate wings. Then Granger walked out of the crowd, slowly making her way towards the fantastic beast. Draco glared. A mudblood got to go before him? He couldn't blame Madame de Confiture, though; even if she shared Draco's feelings, she couldn't tell what Hermione was just by looking.  
  
Without warning, Yoyotte took off. Thomas visibly clutched Hermione in fear, fear of heights, Draco supposed. He would have to work with Thomas on this fear. I mean, he would have to be able to play Quidditch, wouldn't he?  
  
Suddenly, Thomas screamed, and Yoyotte stopped in midair. She reared on her hind legs, an awesome sight, if not for the bodies tumbling from her back. Hermione shrieked as she fell, flailing her arms in an attempt to catch anything she could. The twenty-foot fall seemed much longer, lasting minutes in the eyes of the onlookers. She fell in slow motion, making Draco feel that if only he could move his concrete feet, he could save her.  
  
Hermione hit the ground, followed only milliseconds later by Thomas. 


	11. Hot Tea for Convalescents

Everyone gasped; were they all right? The group of students, foreign and citizens, stormed the gate to the landing field, keeping a long leeway from Yoyotte. All eyed her with suspicion. Madame de Confiture pushed her way through the crowd, making her way as quickly as possible to the fallen would-be birds.  
  
They lay crumpled together, not moving or stirring a bit. The grass around them was still perfect, as if in mockery of these damaged beings. The teacher kneeled down by them, searching for a sign of life, any sign. She found one, however faint; the two were breathing dimly, just enough to support life. Get the nurse. You know where she is, she said quietly to a student. And tell her to hurry. We can't move them until we know how their condition is.   
  
Draco stood by in shock. A boy that he had known for barely twenty-four hours lay struggling for life, and Draco was already scared for him. And Hermione, too. If she dies, he thought, would he have to be the one to tell Harry? That would be too strenuous eve for calm-headed Draco. And, he would miss her. Draco shook his head in bewilderment. Where had that thought come from? He would never miss a common mudblood like her; it was against his moral code. Still, he would have to make sure she was fine.  
  
He watched in silence as the quite-capable woman who was apparently the nurse flew in and gauged the seriousness of the situation. She obviously thought it was a grim one, because she carefully levitated both Hermione and Thomas in their same positions away from the scene of the crime. He observed, hushed, as the Thestral was led away to a darkened stable jail for the calming-down period. He followed, waiting, surveying the way all students in the jammed halls forced their way to the edge of the passage, like cars pulling over while an ambulance alarmed it's way down the freeway.  
  
When the nurse finally made her way all the way to the aid station, all the way over on the other side of the expansive school, no one was allowed in the bibelot crowded room.  
  
They are not stabilised, and will be in here at least a week, so just rein in your horses. You'll be able to see them tomorrow, and no earlier. Go to class, the disgruntled woman told the patiently lingering Draco. So he went on his not-so-merry way, carefully looking out for Potter in the halls. When he finally glimpsed that elusive boy, there was no time for chitchat, and there wasn't until dinner that night.  
  
While the student body was eagerly anticipating their meal, Draco strode over to where Potter sat joking with his newfound friends. "Potter," he announced, "Your girlfriend is in the hospital ward. You might want to go visit her, but no one shall be able to till tomorrow morning."  
  
"What did you do to her?" Potter shouted. "If I've found you've harmed her in any way, shape, or form, your mine! You won't live to see your awful father again!" His face, crimson as a Howler, seemed ready to catch fire at any moment.  
  
"Be still, Potter. The nurse is taking care of her, and it was not my fault at all. Just ask that Care of Magical Creatures professor. She was the one who let Hermione and Thomas up on that dangerous beast." Draco felt bad about placing the blame on Madame de Confiture, as it wasn't her that caused the mare to rear. "Like I said, you can see your beloved in the morning." He let no mention pass that Draco himself would be there just as anxiously awaiting his own friend's awakening.  
  
The rest of the day had passed normally, albeit apprehensively. Classes continued on, with a degree of subdued anticipation. Before the Soleil children went to bed, Thibaut called them together for a brief conference about what had taken place that day.  
  
I'm glad to say that Madame Santé says that Thomas only suffered a mild concussion and should be back in regular classes by the day after next, and Hermione by the day after that. The congregation let out a muted cheer, happy that the two would join them so soon after what had appeared to be such a devastating fall. They were dismissed, talking in low whispers about how it was lucky they hadn't fallen from higher up. Draco shuddered to think of that which might have been, and was glad it wasn't. He headed up to his bed, feeling slightly lonely from the temporary lack of Thomas' warm and eclectic companionship, and he got into bed believing himself to be isolated from all the others in the world. Just as he slipped his friendless legs into the covers on his lonesome bed, a warmth placed itself there. He glanced up, and saw Thibaut close to him.  
  
I know you had already bonded with Thomas, but don't worry. He'll be back soon, and Mme Santé says anyone can go visit him starting tomorrow. With that, Thibaut absconded the foot of the bed, and Draco was left to sleep.  
  
Dreams didn't trouble him this night; it was a dark and black sleep full of healing properties. He awoke feeling refreshed from this overnight nap, and then remembered the occurrences of the previous day. He hurriedly threw on his robes and made his way to the infirmary.  
  
The miniature hospital was already up and running at this early hour of the morning, and Draco could smell hot tea, heavily aromatic, wafting towards him. He hastened in, and was pleasantly surprised to see that Thomas was the one to be drinking it. "Thom! Are you better now?" he cried out.  
  
"Well, Madame Santé wants to keep me here for a little longer. She tells me that one of the few things she can't heal are concussions, though she can help them along," Thomas slowly told him, taking sips of the tea on alternating words. "I might be able to come back later today if I'm good, though I'll have to 'take it easy.' "  
  
"That's good. Any word on Hermione?" Draco asked, carefully keeping any particular emotion aside from curiosity out of his voice.  
  
"I'm fine, thank you very much. I just have a few bruises that are left. Madame says that I'm lucky that nothing major was broken. Just my legs," came a voice from behind a curtain. "And I didn't have a concussion like dear Thom here."  
  
Which is a good thing, said Madame Santé as she bustled in and about. Now have more tea and another croissant. It's the best meal for convalescents like you two. And you have seen them for long enough. Shoo! She hustled Draco out of the door, only allowing him a small wave before pushing him out of sight.  
  
Draco went down to le petit dejeuner, and ate up, happy that his friend was (friends were) okay and had survived the night. 


	12. Watching Shadows

(A/N: Sorry this one was so late. Having the flu was not conducive towards a good work ethic. And wow! For Christmas, I got a brand new computer, so now I have to work extra hard at this story, just so I can type and play on my wonderful piece of electronics. I hope you all had a bunch of happy holidays too!)  
  
The rest of the day passed normally, and dully. Classes like transfiguration, usually exciting and stimulating, were rote to Draco. All that happened was rudimentary, and exceedingly dreary. The weather outside, bleak and wet like the Arctic tundra, didn't do much to kindle enthusiasm in the student body.  
  
Lunchtime was a welcome relief to all, including the teachers. The dining hall filled quickly with expectant children, all wanting to get food as soon as possible. Aromas of food wafted through the air, giving the very famished Draco an especial reason to head for the cafeteria. Monotony had lulled his stomach into hungriness, and he wolfed down almost a whole course before slowing down enough to actually taste the food.  
  
Afternoon classes and the free time rolled by, and soon it was time to go back to the dormitories for the students' forty winks. They arrived, and found Thomas sitting on his bed waiting for the group to appear. Hello, all. I guess I'm officially back. What did I miss when I was out?   
  
Hi! They chorused back, and crowded around him looking for any sign of wear and tear. Finding none, all surrounded him in a giant bear hug. You didn't miss anything. We're so glad you're back. Were you all right in the first aid centre?   
  
Thomas answered in the affirmative. It was all right, except there was nothing to do! All I could do was sit there, and talk to Hermione all day. Not that there is anything wrong with that, though.   
  
Is Hermione coming home soon? We want her back. It's not any fun to just sit around all day. Will she be back tonight? An inquisitive little third year solicited. I like Hermione. I mean. What?   
  
Madame Santé says that she should be back in class tomorrow, so you can see her then, silly. Thomas told the boy, who was blushing furiously. Now, I think we should all get ready for bed. Come on, shoo now! All the boys slowly moseyed their ways over to beds made warm by heaters, and put on pyjamas of varying colours.  
  
"So, how was it really?" Draco queried as he himself readied for bed. "It can't have been all that much fun, stuck up in a bed, without any interesting people."  
  
"Oh come on. Hermione isn't that bad. In fact, I liked talking to her a lot; she has a lot of interesting views you just don't hear about in America. Hell, we aren't even really big Quidditch fans over the Puddle. Most of my friends and I just watch football all the time in our La-Z- Boys."  
  
"What's a La-Z-Boy?" Draco pondered aloud, looking perplexed.  
  
At this point Thomas broke out laughing, drawing stares from across the dormitory room. "So I'm not the only person in this room that's ignorant of other countries. A La-Z-Boy is a recliner. They get really comfortable after you've practically lived in it for about five years straight."  
  
Draco just accepted this; crazy Americans. "So what did you and Hermione do all day?"  
  
"Well, the stuff Madame gave us made us both really tired, so we slept about half the day. Then, we just talked about little stuff, like how our classes were. Hermione actually likes Transfiguration. I just can't believe that; it's one of my least favourite classes. I can't get a hang of the rhythm of the spells. She said she would help me with them though. That's really nice of her. I think she would be a good friend to have, no matter what you say," Thomas told Draco.  
  
"Okay, okay! That's fine by me. You can like her all you want, because it's no skin off my back! Anyhow, is that all you did? That doesn't sound very interesting. I guess you're all right now, though, seeing as Madame Santé let you come back."  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine now. I don't think I'll ever get on another Thestral again, all the same. Falling off of one certainly didn't help my fear of heights," Thomas added with a slight chuckle.  
  
"I'm sure it didn't-" Draco started, but was interrupted by Monsieur Thibaut.  
  
In bed, boys. Busy day tomorrow and we want you to all be well rested! He called into the room as the illuminating candles flickered themselves out.  
  
"What's happening tomorrow?" Thomas whispered to Draco.  
  
"I don't know. I guess we'll just have to wait and find out tomorrow, won't we?" Draco murmured back quietly, and lay back in the soft sheets. Sleep followed soon after his head hit the pillow, and so did the dream.  
  
The girl was watching him, appearing troubled. She turned to the side, looking downwards and refusing to meet Draco's gaze. When she did, weariness glazed her eyes, lifting briefly as she looked beyond Draco to someone else. Then the melancholy returned. The dream faded out, replaced by foggy mist covering everything in sight.  
  
Draco slowly woke up, blinking away sleep, and waited for his eyes to adjust to the early morning sun. He sat up and stretched, pushing his tousled hair from his eyes. Reaching for his loose sweat pants, Draco got out of bed and went out to the common room. He flopped down on one of the low couches and glanced around the room. A small lump on one of the divans caught his eye, and he got up and walked towards it. The mass took on definition as he neared, and Draco realized that it was Hermione, lightly dozing. He crouched down by her side, and slightly nervously tapped her on the shoulder. "Hermione, wake up. Why aren't you in your bed?"  
  
"Thomas? No, it's you," she said in a confused tone. "The girls lock their door at night, and I got here too late to get in the room."  
  
"Well, come here. The guys don't lock the door, and you can sleep in my bed. Come on, Hermione. You can't just sleep here all night." She followed him tiredly, with no resistance. Draco led her to his bed, and tucked her in. After watching her fall immediately asleep, he went back out into the common room and watched the shadows travel across the murals. 


	13. Journeys to a New Place

(A/N: I'm so sorry I haven't updated! For some reason, fanfic wasn't letting me onto my name, so I couldn't upload or anything, and then the whole thing like in the last chapter. Argh! I'm sorry… If this ever happens again, my deadjournal is the place to go to check for reasons I haven't posted. Okay then, on with the story.)  
  
As Draco nodded off in the common room, Thomas was doing just the opposite in the dorm. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. Refreshed and now awake, he looked around the room, and seeing Draco's bed still occupied, got out of his own. "Get out of bed, sleepyhead!" Thomas said, whipping the covers back. "Hermione! What the…?!?" He shouted.  
  
"Don't yell!" She whispered angrily, clutching the covers back over herself. "You'll wake everyone up!"  
  
Too late. And what, may I ask, is the meaning of this? Asked Thibaut, who had appeared out of nowhere. You both should know, if you don't, that it is unacceptable to have members of the opposite sex in the dorm room after hours. Or before, for that matter. Please, do explain.   
  
Uhh, I don't know myself. Ask her! Thomas said, trying to maintain his innocent composure.  
  
Hermione?   
  
I don't know how I got here. I just woke up in this bed. Oh, I remember! I got back late from Madame Santé, and the girls' room door was locked, so I couldn't get in. Draco found me asleep on the couch earlier, and he made me come in here, so I could get some sleep. I'm sorry, I couldn't think at five o'clock in the morning. Please forgive me, Thibaut? She begged.  
  
I don't know, I'll have to think on this. It is a very serious infraction to be caught here, not matter the circumstances. I'll get back to you on the punishments, he said gravely as he strode out of the room.  
  
"Why did you have to yell, Thomas? Why?" Hermione wept. "Now I'm going to be expelled and it's going to go on my permanent record, and my parents will be so disappointed in me! They always wanted me to be the best witch I could be…"  
  
"There, there, Hermione. You aren't going to be expelled, because you didn't do anything wrong. Besides, I couldn't stand it if we got expelled. That'd mean that I couldn't see you every day," Thomas lifted up her chin with a finger.  
  
"Really? You'd…you'd… miss me?" After Thomas nodded his agreement, she smiled. "Well, you know what? I'd miss you too."  
  
"Well, well, well, what did I miss?" Draco asked, standing over them as they sat on Draco's bed holding hands. "Did I accidentally get you two in trouble? I didn't mean to. I personally thought it would be a good idea for Hermione to get her beauty sleep, since we all know what she looks like without it."   
  
Hermione slapped his arm playfully, and said, "Oh, Draco. Yeah, you got us in trouble, but that's okay. We, I mean Thomas and me, well, we're an item now. And it's entirely your fault, except it's not really your fault, because it isn't such a bad thing-Oh, I'm just so happy!" she babbled on and on excitedly, all the while gazing into Thomas's clear aquamarine eyes. "So do you know what the big thing is today, Draco? I hope it's something really fun."  
  
"Uh, no, I have no clue as to what it's going to be," Draco said distractedly, perplexed by the thoughts running unbidden through his mind. What was he thinking, wishing that it was him running his thumb along Hermione's jaw line? That wasn't something he could think. After all, he should feel happy for his new best friend. It wasn't fair to them to be encroaching on Hermione like that. Like what? He hadn't actually done anything, and probably never would because… because why? Because she was a Mudblood? That was no reason. His great-uncle Levantine had found love with a Muggle, even though the Malfoy family usually made no mention of that disgrace to the Malfoy name.   
  
Draco walked down the hall, slightly dazed by this turn of events. Who would have thought that those two… and who would tell Potter? Draco wasn't sure that Holy Harry would appreciate his girlfriend being stolen away from him from right under his nose like that. No, Draco would just let those two tell him. It would sound better coming from them anyways.  
  
Breakfast went by quickly on this day, so early into the New Year, and ended with an assembly called by the headmistress. Now, kids, I know that you know that there is going to be something special happening today, but it won't be until this after noon, and I want it to be a surprise. Okay? So, teachers, that means that you can't tell the students anything. If you do, I shall be very angry with you, and you might just find your pillows Port Keyed to some very bad places tonight if you do… Get the idea? She said, with an evil glint in her eyes. Good, so now all you children will just have to wait. With that, she walked off the dais, and left the room.  
  
Draco felt an immense sense of camaraderie as he joined in the speculation as to what the day would hold. Do you think we'll all get to go down to Jolilieu? One of the younger years asked.   
  
What's Jolilieu? Draco wondered to him.  
  
It's a little town that only the seventh years get to go to, usually, but the rest of us go to on occasion. It's really cool; there are a bunch of shops for all sorts of things, and a bunch of the kids go there just to hang out on weekends. Muggles go there too sometimes, ones who know witches and wizards anyways. Some of them are pretty neat. Gabriel expounded on the subject. Anyhow, we all love going there. There's also a great library Hermione can go to while she's there, seeing as we all know what a bookworm she is.   
  
You know her like you know the back of your hand, don't you? I'm sure she'll love it. Oh, I just can't wait! Draco said impatiently. Do you think we'll go after lunch?   
  
That's the way it usually goes around here. Gabriel told him, and then took his classroom seat. They had reached the Potions room, and Monsieur Thibaut awaited them.  
  
Please open your books to chapter thirteen, and follow the instructions to make the Dreamer's Dram. This potion makes one dream in clear and memorable detail, and explains the answers to one's emotional turmoil. It doesn't explain things like a math problem, though; those you'll have to solve on your own. All the information the dream elucidates upon comes from your own mind. Now, this is a complicated potion, but I think you shall all be able to complete it. Any slight slip, however, can drastically change the dram, from one extra beetle eye, or too few tongues of newt. All changes to it ARE fatal, and you shall have to drink this. Well, maybe they aren't fatal, but they will cause severe stomachaches and your toenails to grow thirty-two times more quickly. Trust me, you don't want that to happen… As M Thibaut rambled on and on, the students collected and assembled their ingredients.  
  
"Today is going to be so much fun, isn't it, Draco?" Thomas commented as he set up his cauldron. "You know, the only problem with these things is that they're so bulky! I hate lugging them around all the time."  
  
"Yeah, but its okay. We only have potions class twice a week, and it's not that bad to carry it around so little." Draco replied, and put exactly thirty-two goat toenails into the mixture. A small puff of steam came out when each of the nail hit the viscous fluid. "The thing I don't like is carrying around all those Arithmancy books. I don't know how you like that class, because it's so boring."  
  
"It's not boring, that's how I like it. All the formulas are great. Don't you be dissing my 'rithmancy, boy! I like-" Thomas was interrupted by the bell ringing.  
  
Okay, class. Leave your cauldron in your cubby, as we will continue this potion next time you're in my class. And put up all your ingredients! He added as the class filed out into the hall.  
  
Well, all we have left is lunch, and then we get to know the secret destination of our day, Thomas told Joel, sitting down at the round luncheon table. I really do hope we go to Jolilieu. That sounds like the perfect place that we could all go hang out at during days off. Heck, back in America, what we do is just hang out at the mall. We don't actually buy stuff, we just run amok in the stores until we practically get kicked out.   
  
We can't do that in Mozambique. There aren't any malls where I live, and most of the spare time we have that we aren't in school, is used in helping out our villages. We still have a bunch of fun though, Joel countered.  
  
Lunch was over quickly, bites of food taken amongst serious discussion of what amusement the afternoon would bring. The plates disappeared, leaving a long and resinous expanse of dark wood. May I have your attention, please? Could all of the students please go to the boat loading area? We are going to take a little trip this afternoon. A collective gasp arose from the group. I'm sure you have all figured out where we are going, without any help at all from the teachers, right? So you guys know that we shall be going to Jolilieu. Now hurry up, and get out to the boats to go downstream. We can't stay after dark with this big of a horde, and the sun goes down early in winter, which it most definitely is right now. Get a move on! Can't be late! 


	14. Crowded, Tiny, One Room Libraries

(Author's Note: Hrm. That is really, really odd. The carets opening to the right show up as opening to the left. Odd. Anyways. all next week, I shan't be here, as I will be at EPCOT with my gifted and talented class. Oh so much fun. Just because I'm having the time of my life, doesn't mean I will not be thinking of possible plots twists, and cruel cliffhanger places to end the chapters. He he. And I know this one is left in a cruel place, but I'm leaving tomorrow, and I can't write a whole chapter in one night. Sorry!)  
  
The students all mobbed the loading dock, nearly breaking it down in their rush to go to Jolilieu. Come on! Let's go. I want to be there as soon as possible! Do you think it'll be fun? was heard from around the crowd, all of it in as excited a tone as possible.  
  
The dinghies were quickly loaded, three to one ratio. Draco, Thomas, and Hermione all sat together, Hermione denying Harry's request to sit with him and his companions.  
  
The three from Soleil sat in a triangle formation, Draco at the head, and the two lovebirds aft. The lover-wannabes talked of odd things, sentences punctuated only by the long sigh escaping from their lips. Draco felt like the odd one out, like he had nothing to do with these two and hardly knew them. He almost wished he was sitting over there with Potter. Thinking of him, Draco glanced over at their craft, and noticed Potter gawking at the lust flowing between Thomas and Hermione's love struck eyes. Ha. It served the boy right. "Can I make a comment, you guys?" Draco interrupted their reverie. "I feel like a third wheel. I think either I need a girlfriend so I can identify with you two, or you guys should get a clue and let me in the conversation at times."  
  
"Of course! I'll find you a girlfriend!" exclaimed Thomas, contrary to what Draco had wanted.  
  
"No, that's not what I meant! I-" he tried to explain, but was distracted by the sight, from the corner of his eye, of Harry leaning over and smacking Genevieve on the cheek with a wet one. Potter looked just as stunned as the planted one did, or even more so, if that was possible.  
  
"Ha! Pothead's got a girlfriend!" Draco shouted, planning to rub this into Harry's face.  
  
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't call my friends tha- What? Who?" Hermione said angrily. "That little liar told me he didn't like anyone here! Argh." Draco merely sat back, exasperated once again by this turn of events taking the focus off of him, and watched the French countryside flow by.  
  
The river they were drifting along on was fairly small, and bordered occasionally by petite villages. The women typically were doing the washing, heaving up wash water from the river, and boiling it in large metal vats. Draco found this interesting, as he had really never seen any physical labor done, either. Everything at his mansion was done without his knowledge, things appearing, so it seemed to him, magically. And some of it was done magically, but in actuality, most of it was done by house-elves, not seen, not heard.  
  
After what seemed like an eternity, the students of Beauxbatons finally reached Jolilieu. The town was small, lacking even such modern inventions as cobbled streets. It was set into the side of a hill, with quaint cottages scattered up and down the periphery. Draco muttered, "Does this little. hamlet really have such a big library?"  
  
"Oh, yes. It does. I think the teachers told me that it would have a sign hanging beside the door to it. Please, can we visit? Please, please, please?" Hermione begged.  
  
Thomas shrugged. "I personally didn't come all the way out here to do some studying, and I really want to check out the Quidditch robes, if they have a store here at all."  
  
"Oh, someone has to go with me. I hate going places by myself. Someone might kidnap me or something! Please, someone come with me?" she pleaded the onlookers.  
  
"Fine, fine. I'll go with you. Where is this stupid library of yours anyways?" Draco asked resignedly. "I hope it's not too far. These hills are steep!"  
  
"Look, it's just up the hill. See it, right there? Come on!" She dragged him up the hill, leading him to the front of a small, almost ramshackle bungalow. A sign in front proclaimed it, The Biggest Library.  
  
"Conceited a touch, isn't it? I mean, look at it. It's barely as big as my bedroom at home. Surely it can't hold many books." Draco scoffed at the hovel.  
  
"Well, we won't know until we get in there, will we? Hustle! Get a move on it!" She hauled the lug into the ancient annals. All that presented itself to them was an itsy bitsy room, barely large enough to hold a front desk. A decrepit old man was sitting behind the counter; barely visible behind mammoth stacks of parchments.  
  
"Can I help you young'uns? You look confused there. What are you looking for?" he asked in a wheezy scarcely audible elderly man's tone.  
  
"Well, actually we're just looking for the libra-"  
  
"Hush! We're just looking. How do we get to all the books?" Hermione asked.  
  
"You see that door over there? I don't, but that's just my age. Well, walk up to the door, say what room you want to go to, like the history section, for instance, and then you walk through the door! The room will appear, and then when you want to leave, just walk through the door labeled 'exit'! Simple as that," the old man explained. The two youngsters heeded his advice, and went to the door.  
  
"Where do you want to go, Draco? How about the transfiguration section? OOH! Can we go there? Please please please? Great! Um, Mr. Door? I want to go to the transfiguration section if you would." Hermione politely pronounced.  
  
"Why, thank you, dear. That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me all day. It's Mrs. Door, by the way. Right this way, dearie," The door opened herself, showing a dim interior loaded with books.  
  
The two walked in, wondering at the massive amounts of tomes weighing down the shelving. They wandered around, mostly Draco following Hermione around and watching her every move. She moved so gracefully, like a swan gliding along the cool water. Draco sighed, knowing that it was a slim to none chance that he would ever hold her in his arms.  
  
"Did you say something, Draco?" She turned, bringing their faces .very. close together. She paused, holding her breath without realizing it. The tension was severable, even a dull knife would cut it. Draco didn't think, but instead leaned in.  
  
He kissed her, and she didn't protest. 


	15. Mired in Muck

(A/N: Sorry about not uploading for so long! I had bunches of fun on my school trip, and even got a boyfriend! Then I actually had to write the chapter, which is oh-so-much fun, because I now have a lot of new plot twists to keep you guessing. Or so I hope. And I know this is OOC, but we have to realize that all the HP books are seen from Harry's point of view. So, since we know so little about his character other than that Draco loathes Potter, I make up anything I want. It works out in my head, anyways. And a note to EternityofSong, its winter right now, so even France would be cold. And I'm not telling about anything else. So, without any further ado, as there has been too much already, here we go!)  
  
The two broke apart, quietly. Hermione gazed into Draco's eyes, a doleful look creeping into her face. Draco slowly dropped his hands to his sides, from the precarious position they had attained around Hermione's waist.  
  
She said nothing, merely turned back to the book she had been examining on the shelf. "What?! Are you going to just say nothing?!?" Draco exclaimed, drawing attention from onlookers not already captivated by the events unfolding before their eyes. "Fine, then. I guess my feelings are not reciprocated. I'll leave then." He spun away from their cozy niche, attempting to avoid letting the tears spill out of his liquid steel eyes. He ran to the magical door, shouted, or at least attempted to shout, 'Jolilieu' and barreled through it head on. The door was ignored as she wheezed open at Draco's lack of respect. Draco even ignored the gnarled man's comment of What's the matter, old chap?   
  
The wet air was a waker to Draco, and he slumped down into the mud at the edge of the town wall. He pulled his knees to his chest and didn't sob, simply put his head on his arms and shook with contained sorrow. After he had accepted what had happened, he glanced up to see the happenings of the settlement. A figure was coming towards him. Thomas. Just the last person he wanted to see, after having made a move on his girl and all.  
  
"Ahoy there, matey! Have you seen Hermione? I can't find her anywhere," Thomas chirped as he approached.  
  
In a monotone Draco replied. "Last I saw of her, she was in the library in some section or other. Ask the door." Thomas noticed nothing of his friend's foul mood, and flounced away. Draco stood up, and walked slowly in the direction Thomas had glided. The color appeared to have been sucked from this once glorious landscape, and a light drizzle dribbled onto the countryside.  
  
He couldn't believe what he had just done; it was the last thing on his mind that he ever expected to do! And what about Thomas? Thomas deserved better than that, as he was one of Draco's very few real friends. Everything was too much, nothing was too much. How was he going to explain this to anyone? What about his father? That would not bode well for Draco's future if he died suddenly as he explained it to his old man. How would he tell Hermione? Draco couldn't just lie to her and say he had been under a spell or something. Hermione, smart girl that she is, would never believe it.  
  
He sighed, and continued on his way. He stopped at the foot of the hill, and looked to his left. A creaking sign announced the place to be 'Twisted Twig Pub,' apparently a reference to broomstick tails. A pub was just what Draco needed, he decided. He entered the shop, into a haze of good-smelling pipe tobacco. This place seemed to appeal to the older sort of witches and wizards. Draco slumped down into a low wooden table in a corner close to the boisterously chuckling fire. Sprawling into the timber stool, he raised his hand for a waiter. One came over, and he ordered a pint of butter beer. Nothing strong for him today; it wouldn't do to return to Beauxbatons stone- drunk.  
  
Just as the man brought him back his beer, the door to the tavern opened wide, giving access to two young scholars. Oh, crap. It was Thomas and Hermione. Perfect. He ducked down into his chair, and pretended to be an innocent bystander. The two sat down together at a small table within hearing distance, and ordered a meal together.  
  
"It's so sad that the day turned all gloomy like it did. I had hoped that it would stay sunny all day long. Oh well. So what did you do while we-I was in the library?" Hermione quizzed Thomas.  
  
"Well, I went shopping, and I got you a present," he told her.  
  
"A present? For me? What is it?" she squealed as he handed her a petite box wrapped simply in wine-hued ribbon. She pulled the narrow band off, and opened the lid. Draco couldn't see what was inside, but he could distinguish the look on her face as she lifted out something from the package. She was ecstatic; and Thomas' face mirrored hers. She reached around and hugged Thomas as hard as she could as thanks for the gift. He lifted the something up, and Draco could at length catch a glimpse of what it was. A necklace, sparkling in its entirety, flowed over his fingers as Thomas raised it to Hermione's neck. As he went to clasp it around her slender neckline, he paused.  
  
"What's this other necklace? Can I take it off before I put this one on you? Oh, look. The little charm looks like a flying broom!" At the word 'broom' Draco, who had been staring sullenly at the wall, sat up and looked alert. Could this be the necklace he remembered from his dreams? He strained to see what hung from her neck. "Weird. I can't seem to find the fastener," Thomas was saying. "Surely it doesn't fit over your head. It can't!"  
  
Draco craned his neck as far as possible. Hermione's face was burgundy with embarrassment, and she would glance around fearfully every few seconds as Thomas tried to remove the necklace. After a few moments, she finally pulled Thomas out of the saloon with her, still crimson. Draco followed at a close distance, only seeing a silver chain hung around the back of her neck. He trailed them without realizing the way he was headed, and was stunned as his foot sank into mire. They were at the edge of the river, and he had missed the dock. He shook his foot off emotionlessly, and looked up at the wharf. Apparently it was time to go home, and he had missed the announcement. He got into his boat, the one that pulled itself around to him as he neared the edge. Hermione and Thomas were already in; Hermione didn't look at Draco, and Thomas was clueless to any strife between the two. Obviously, Hermione hadn't told Thomas just what Draco had done, and that was fine with him. Draco didn't want to lose any more friends than he already possibly had.  
  
He lay down in the bottom of the boat, looking like Jimmy Dean in his mannerisms. He tilted his head down, and fell asleep.  
  
Draco started dreaming immediately, and this time in full color and sound. The brown-haired girl stood over him, watching his every move. As soon as his dream-eyes opened, she started talking. "Draco, I'm so sorry. I was shocked when you kissed me. I couldn't help pulling away. And you shouldn't have cornered me like that; I can't think when I'm feeling trapped. And you knew I was going out with Thomas and that threw me off too. And," she continued lamely, "I liked it more than I expected I would." The dream leaned above him, blocking the sun and silhouetting herself. She reached down to him, and violently shook him awake.  
  
As he stirred, he was confused. Had the dream ended or not? The girl was still over him, the same one as in his reverie. Shock crossed his mind as he realized he was indeed fully conscious: the girl w as Hermione! And dangling from her neck was a broom to match his Snitch! 


	16. Talking Over One's Shoulder

(A/N: I'm so sorry I haven't updated! It's terrible. I know. I was just at a writing standstill with all the stuff we have to do every single day at school now. Well, I am back so do not worry! This fic is almost done, I think. But not yet!)  
  
She shook him harder. "Wake! Up! We're here!" she demanded impatiently. "Come on! Hurry up! Let's go! Move your butt!" she scarily chanted.  
  
Draco's eyes wouldn't focus. All he could see was her looming over him, and her charm leaning into his face. "Wh-where did you get that necklace, Hermione?" he asked shakily.  
  
"Uh. this?" she replied, suddenly extremely self-conscious. "Uh, Thomas. uh, gave it to me. Yeah, that's it."  
  
"That wasn't the one he gave you! And even if it was, then why on earth would I have one almost exactly like it, except with a Snitch?" His voice was raised, and even the students that could not understand his words were staring at the two. Hermione grabbed his arm at his last words, and dragged him off to the side.  
  
"How do you know what one he gave me? And anyways, I'll explain it in just a minute, okay? At least wait until we're back in our rooms and I can talk to you privately. Thomas doesn't know any of this, and I don't want him getting hurt. So just chill." With that, she stormed off in the direction of the castle.  
  
Even in his anger and confusion at her sudden disappearance, all Draco could notice was her silhouette fluttering across an Elysian field in her rush to the citadel of Beauxbatons. He shook that thought from his mind and walked to the building with his head hung down.  
  
As he walked back to his room, a hand reached out from a dark hallway and pulled him in. The dimness was overwhelming, blocking everything from sight. The hand was removed from Draco's mouth, but before he could utter a word, lips were pressed over his, seeking reciprocation in the kiss. Draco pulled away, shocked at this sudden declaration of love from the unknown. Who the hell are you? he demanded of his attacker.  
  
"It's Hermione. I love you, Draco. I do! Please, forgive me for everything I did. I couldn't tell you in front of everyone else. I was too embarrassed! I realize now that there was nothing to be ashamed about! Love is what we want, isn't it?" she begged him pleadingly.  
  
Hermione was coming onto Draco way too strongly for what he was feeling at this moment. He pushed her away as gently as possible, and said, "I'm still processing what happened today. Just. wait, and ask me in the morning." With that, he walked away.  
  
He went to his room, and threw himself onto his bed. His face was buried into his pillow, so much that he could hardly breathe. That was fine by him if his life was over.  
  
What could he do? He didn't want to hurt his friend, but he couldn't just leave Hermione hanging like that. It wouldn't be fair to her or Thomas if they both knew she loved someone else, and that that someone was Draco. He left that thought for the morning, praying that something would come to him in his sleep.  
  
The next morning was carefree for approximately two seconds, until the adventures of the previous night hit Draco smack between the eyes. He groaned as he realized what had happened, and got up to take a shower, determined not to worry about what had happened between them at least until breakfast.  
  
He concentrated only on the steam rising from the scalding water, not on how hot the liquid was or on how his skin tingled from the heat. He washed his hair quickly, and got out of the bath stall.  
  
Just as he was about to leave the bathroom, Thomas entered, looking drowsy. "Just who I wanted to see, seeing as you are my best friend here in France," Thomas announced. Draco felt guilty as this pronouncement. "I think Hermione is in love with someone else, someone she met in Jolilieu."  
  
Draco gaped in shock, or pretended to. "Why would you think that? I mean, last I heard she was completely infatuated with you. Wasn't she?"  
  
"Well, yeah, she was, but. I don't know. When I gave her that necklace I bought for her, she had on that other necklace and she wouldn't tell me who it was from, or why I couldn't take it off. I'm just kind of confused about what to do. What do you think?" he asked.  
  
Draco replied, cautiously, "I think you should let her go. Love is about trust, and if you can't trust her, then it's not love." Thomas nodded agreement, and left the room without saying another word.  
  
Draco finished drying himself off, and went out himself. Simple black robes were his attire of choice today, as he wanted to draw as little attention to himself as possible. He walked out of his room into the foyer of their house hall, and got out his books to study. He still didn't know where the library was, or how to get there, so he just sat on one of the very stiff couches and studied uncomfortably.  
  
Hermione came out of her room, followed by a group of girls all congregating around her quite closely. They walked past Draco, barely acknowledging him with the slightest nods of their stuck up noses. Waltzing out the door, Hermione called over her shoulder, "And sorry about last night. I was merely drunk off my wits."  
  
Draco turned around in shock, and then looked back to his book and let it go. 


	17. Ending

(A/N: Yeah, I know I should've updated. I won't even make excuses. Please forgive me, though hopefully this chapter will remove any hard feelings you may have.)  
  
Things continued in this vein of Hermione denying that Draco existed for a good part of the rest of the school year. No mention was ever made by the two as to what had happened between them, and hence, Thomas never found out about any of those disturbing events. He separated congenially from Hermione, and they resumed just an easy friendship. Draco, however chummy he might have been with Thomas, could not bring himself to let himself confide in Thomas; the feelings for Hermione were still there, though repressed, and a slip of the tongue could bring about his downfall in the eyes of his peers.  
  
Studies in all his classes maintained a steady level of work. Some days had more than others, but that was to be expected. To keep his thoughts off of the world, Draco poured himself into school with a devotion that would have shocked his home-school Slytherins. His reading took him into all sorts of charms and spells, potions and Arithmancies.  
  
Two weeks to the end of school, while skimming quickly through an ancient tome of lore, Draco came upon something quite interesting. Two things, actually. First, on a page half torn out, a title jumped to his eyes.  
  
Dreams Deferred: How to Send Others Your Dreams.  
  
Could Hermione have used this? He wondered to himself, thinking over whether Hogwarts would have this book in their library. It was quite possible, really.  
  
The other item to catch his eye stated quite clearly,  
  
To Tell the Truth A Truth Spell to Find out What You Want to Know  
  
Now this would be perfect for getting her to tell him her true feelings. Surely she didn't mean it when she told him she didn't mean all that she had said. She hadn't even drunk anything strong, just butterbeer. Maybe that was too strong for her. Maybe. Oh, gods, why did all this have to be so hard?  
  
He set to work immediately on his spell.  
Two days, a weekend, later, the spell was finished, glowing pale blue in front of him. Now, just to find her and cast it around her, draw it tight. They would have to be alone; Draco didn't want any others to hear words that might or mightn't be welcome to him and her. Ah, look. There she is now, sitting alone in the common room and reading her tale tell book, Hogwarts, A History. She must be feeling homesick for her faraway school. She definitely had been keeping up with Ron with letters from Pig. Draco casually approached her, sitting down carefully askance on the couch. "So how's your life?" he asked.  
  
"Fine. Why?" she asked warily. "You have hardly talked to me since. then."  
  
Biting his tongue to refrain from comments about her not talking to him, he merely said two very dangerous words.  
  
Indigentia Agnosco.  
  
Immediately a look came into Hermione's face of absolute trust and utter believability. The spell only lasted five minutes, so Draco had to work quickly.  
  
"How old are you?" He asked, to assure the validity of the spell.  
  
"Seventeen." She replied, looking dazed.  
  
Good. It worked. "Who do you love?"  
  
"Everyone. I can't help it."  
  
Dangit. More specific questions. "Do you love me?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"How? As a brother, friend, or. or a lover?"  
  
"I just love you for how you are, for what you do. I love you the way you want to be loved but just don't know it yet."  
  
What the heck? "And how do I want to be loved?"  
  
"Truly and deeply."  
  
Wow. She loved him! "If you love me, then why did you hurt me like that?"  
  
"Because I thought my love would hurt you more. You pushed me away from you, remember?" Her face was starting to lose the innocence. "But that doesn't mean I don't love.you?" The spell had worn off, leaving her confused. But as she realized what she had told him, and why, she sat back.  
  
"Oh my. I didn't even know I felt like that. I had hoped it would go away. But it won't." She said quietly. "I love you."  
  
Finis. 


End file.
